


A series of bad choices

by Dafaquisdisshit



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bad Decisions, Blood licking, Death, Horror, I just wanted a female lead, Murder, No Romance, Referenced Characters, Stalker, it's squished into the game's story, lots of bodies, mostly an original plot, takes place over like 4 hours, tired main character just wants to go home
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-05-19 19:49:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14880104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dafaquisdisshit/pseuds/Dafaquisdisshit
Summary: "When Amelia Warren's father sent her a few desperate texts in the wee hours of the morning, she assumed he'd gotten bored at work. Turns out, things had gone to hell in a hand basket. Being a college student who runs on bad choices, she goes to Mount Massive Asylum to try and rescue her dad."This is really just me wanting a female lead.





	1. Chapter 1

Getting a string of late night texts wasn’t unusual for a young adult. Getting several disturbing cries for help from your father while he’s at work, at two in the morning? Yeah. That’s strange, and extremely troubling. When the third or so text had woken her, Amelia was angry. She had three classes and a test in the morning. She was a bio-chem major, who was bad at chemistry. She needed to study and to sleep. 

On top of that, she’d gotten home only a few hours ago from a raging concert. She still smelled like the heavy perfume she’d hit herself with when she got home to cover up the stink of sweat, weed and beer. While she wouldn’t say her father was particularly observant of her, he was enough of a parent to ground her for drinking and smoking weed. Which he totally couldn’t prove she did, not that she would admit to it. But once she’d finished reading the messages he’d sent her, she had her coat on and was out the door. She hadn’t bothered to change out of her baggy, gray sweats or her loose black, “Blink 182” tank she slept in. Hell, she almost didn’t put a bra on before getting her muddy grey galoshes and keys.

Her tired eyes focused on the road as she sped through traffic, her adrenaline waking her up better than five cups of coffee and a monster™. The night was clear, if not just a tad bit foggy. The roads were mostly clear, save for a few graveyard shift workers going home. The texts her father sent swirling in her head.

“They escaped oh god they escpaed”

“Fuck somethinf went wrong what went wrong fuck fuck fuck”

“Amelia honey i love you tell your mom i still love her and im sorry”

“I never wanted any of this to happen jesus”

“Please gos don’t tell anyone you knew i worked here”

“So much blood its evverywhere oh god”

“I don’t want to die”

“I don’t want to go to ehll”

“Please goerhbflhebrlhfn”

She didn’t live too terribly far away. Half an hour on a good day, almost two hours when traffic was bad. The people in the town she lived in didn’t talk much about the asylum, most finding it to be a taboo of sorts. Like it was cursed or something. Granted, not many people boast about being close to a giant mental institution. Still, asking if they knew anyone that even worked there, much less had been sent there, was akin to asking if they miss their child that just died. It was such an insult she’d seen people get into fist fights over the question.

She noticed that about a mile out from the facility, her phone lost its signal. No wifi, no cell service. That was… Unnerving. How had her father sent her any messages when there wasn’t a signal? Maybe the asylum had its own wifi and cell service? Maybe it was a hot spot sort of thing, where you had to actually be in the building for it to work?

Pulling up to the facility, Amelia parked her shitty Ford thunderbird behind some tree. Some asshole had parked his car in front of the ticket booth. Slamming the door closed, Amelia approached the institution. She went through the open secondary gate off to the side of the main entrance. Looking up at it, it really was, well, massive. She briefly worried she wouldn’t be able to find her father. Thinking like that never got anything done. She tied her hair up and took a breath before marching up to the entrance.

Unsurprisingly, the door was locked. She tried jiggling the knobs, pushing, pulling and jostling it. Obviously, it didn’t open. She gave the door a firm kick, but found it didn’t budge anymore than her jostling. Huffing, she looked around for something to beat it open with. She found a small, metal pipe of some kind not too far from the building. While curious as to how it got there, she was too preoccupied to really stop and think about it.

She was a lady on a mission to save the only parent she liked. She slammed the pipe into the handles again and again, until one of the knobs broke off completely. It moved when she pushed on it, but was still locked. Tossing her head in thought, Amelia crossed her arms. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out an old hotel key. Sliding it between the doors, she pulled up hard to lift whatever it was keeping it closed. Once done, the door swung open. Smiling to herself and, admittedly, rather stupidly, she tossed the pipe back to the ground and made her way inside. The first thing that hit her, was the smell. Mount Massive Asylum, or whatever it was called, seriously needed a new cleaning crew. It smelled like blood and shit. Flipping her iphone’s flashlight on, she came to the receptionist’s desk, only to find a slouched man in front of the monitors.

“Hello? I’m looking for Dr. Warren?” She asked rather timidly. When she got no answer, she moved closer. Shining her light on the man, she nearly dropped her phone when she realized it was a corpse. A dead man, a dead  _ security guard _ , sitting upright in one of those wheely chairs she’d play on when she was a child, the ones they used in doctors offices. She backed up and was halfway to the door when she stopped herself. She’d stepped in something. It was wet and it was squishy. Hesitantly, Amelia looked down and shinned her flashlight on what turned out to be, another dead body, another dead man. She choked back a scream, only a whimper escaped her.

Steeling herself, Amelia walked back towards the desk. She looked around for anything useful. Mostly finding papers, or other useless office supplies. She tried finding anything that might lead her to her father, or where he’d be located in the mass expanse that was this hell hole. The sooner she could leave, the better. She saw a few papers about patients, but nothing on Dr. Warren. She hated hospitals. She always had, and she was sure she always would. This experience was not helping in the least.

Electing that it was a bust, she moved on. She’d never been to the asylum before, as much as she’d asked her father to take her on bring your child to work day. He’d always told her it was too dangerous, or just plain unsafe. How long had he been working there exactly? She couldn’t remember. She was four or five when he had gotten his masters in psychological care. Regardless, without a solid plan, wandering about was her best bet now on getting anywhere. Her father had been tight lipped on his work, so she really didn’t know where to begin looking.

She scanned the rest of the room. It was fairly barren with the island desk in the middle. There were some windows and a staircase leading up to god knows where, but almost all of the lights were shut off. Her first thought was that it was just time for everyone to go home. But recalling her father’s texts, and you know, the  _ corpses _ , she knew something much worse, much more sinister was at play. She felt a cold chill run down her spine as doubt invaded her mind again. Was this really a good idea? No. Was she going to go through with it?

Yes. She had too. It was either find her father, or live with her raging alcoholic mother. While neither option was great, her workaholic father at least had the courtesy to not bother her when he was actually around. The hall at the back of the room split into two. She decided to go to take the path to the right. It was hard to see but there was definitely more blood.

She stopped in front of what looked like a security room. As she reached for the doorknob, she froze and looked down the hall, her phone providing the only light. Someone was running towards her, and fast. The sound of bare feet on tile didn’t bode well in a mental institution. She quickly shut her light off and ducked into the room, hiding under a nearby desk. She made herself as small as possible and pressed herself into the corner, hoping to avoid detection. The sound of the door being kicked in made her jump and Amelia had to cover her mouth to keep quiet. It was here that she realized just how bad an idea this was.

God, what had she been thinking? Your father sends you distressed texts, implying mortal peril, and you  _ go to him _ ?! She  _ knew  _ it was dangerous! Why hadn’t she just called the cops? Too late for that now. She supposed as the man, or she assumed it was a man at least, grumbled lowly and scanned the area. His words were mumbled and the room was so dark, it was hard to see without her eyes adjusting. She heard him open a locker, then close it. He lingered for a moment or two more before leaving the room. Fear, anxiety, and worry for her father’s safety as well as her own mixed. Amelia wanted to vomit.

She was already here. There were no cops, so if they’d been called, the hadn’t responded. If her father was alive, she was his best hope for getting out. Hell, if there were  _ any  _ survivors from whatever had happened here. From the rotting stink of blood that permeated the room, she had a strong suspicion that the security guards hadn’t made it. Taking a deep breath, Amelia came out of hiding, now with her eyes more adjusted to the darkness. She could make out basic shapes.

Sitting in front of the blank monitors was a little camcorder. How retro. It was almost cute. She picked it up and turned it on. Flipping through the settings, she found a night vision mode. She could see in the dark, but not be seen. Good, she could feel a little safer. At least that’s what she thought before she looked into the corner of the room. What she thought had been just a bunch of garbage piled up, was actually a pile of corpses, all without heads.

She quickly darted out of the room. It was as she was running, her galoshes making loud squeaking and squelching noises, that the sound of bare feet on the tile returned, and it was getting closer. She pushed herself to run as fast as she could. She came upon a fork in the hall and paused only for a moment, panting hard. Down the left dimly lit, and looked to be mostly clear but she wasn’t sure if it was a dead end or not. The right hall was completely black. Acting fast as the thundering foot falls became louder, she took the left path. 

It, rather luckily, wasn’t a dead end, but rather it turned off to another hallway. Unfortunately, this hall was much more cluttered. As she came upon a table that had been left in the middle of the the hall for some ungodly reason. She gave it a hard shove against the wall, she leapt up and used it to climb into an open vent. God, she should have gone to the gym more, she felt like her legs were on fire. 

Panting hard from the exertion but unwilling to stop to find out if her stalker could climb, she began crawling. She didn’t know where it would lead her, but anywhere was better than her current location. As she made her way through the vent, she came across an opening below her. Through it, she could see a few figures. They were just- just standing there in the room. There was furniture, a few chairs and a bed, but none of them sat down, nor did they talk to each other.

She watched them for a bit. Mostly out of curiosity. One of the people sneezed, and this seemed to set the others off as they began brutally assaulting the poor bastard. Once blood began flying and she’d heard the audible crunch of his nose, she quickly took her leave. She continued crawling through the dusty vent till she came upon a dead end. She pushed the grate open and jumped down. Using the camera to see in the otherwise pitch black room, she found herself in what looked like a patient’s room. The furniture was toppled over and there was blood on the floor, but no bodies.

She tried the door and it opened with a boisterous squeak. She froze and held her breath. She heard someone speak. It was distant, and muffled. Then she heard screaming. It was a man, and he was in a lot of pain. She looked up when she felt a droplet hit her nose. She knew what it was, where the screaming had come from and why it was sticky. She rubbed it off, staining her maroon jacket, and hurried out of the room and down the hall. Eventually, Amelia found some stairs.

As she took her first step up, a clammy hand grabbed her shoulder. Reacting on instinct, Amelia punched the would be assailant square in the nose and ran up the stairs like a bat out of hell. The fucker had been dazed by her sudden punch and was left reeling from it. Once she got to the top of the stairs, she used her camera to take in her surroundings. There was more scattered furniture and a lot of opened doors. What the hell happened here exactly? As quietly as she could, she pushed a table in front of the stairs going down, to prevent her stalker from coming up unnoticed.

She leaned against the wall and caught her breath, now that she had a moment of reprieve. Once her breath was caught, she lifted her camera to continue on. Walking slowly and as quietly as possible. She didn’t know what the patients would do to her if she got caught, but by god, she did  _ not  _ want to find out. The thought of being maimed, killed, or worse, didn’t exactly sit well with the college student. The sudden sound of a buzz saw and a shrill man’s screaming and crying had Amelia ducking for cover under a nearby bed.

As she hid under the bed, she spotted what looked like a document of some kind. Once it all became quiet again, she crawled out of her spot and picked up the folder. Inside was a report on something called “Project Walrider”. What a stupid name. Whoever thought that up should be fired. What the hell was a walrider anyway? Weren’t these things supposed to make sense? But it also sort of read like some fucked religion trying to summon something. So maybe it was something someone in a cult worshipped. She jumped and gasped when the lights came back on.

Someone flipped the switch? Either someone sane, other than her was running around, or a very smart crazy person. The former provided her hope, in that her father might be okay. The latter made her want to piss with fear. Speaking of which, she hadn’t gone since she woke up and the feeling of her bladder bursting was as much an impending threat as the mad men housed in the asylum. Standing and brushing herself off, Amelia peered out the doorway to make sure it was safe before scurrying out.


	2. Chapter 2

As she made her way down the now lit, but still dark hallway, Amelia felt more vulnerable than she had when the lights were out. She had a hand pressed firmly to the wall as she made her way through the asylum. Keeping her eyes open for the bathroom, she tried to keep her guard up high as she could but her need to pee made it much, much harder to concentrate. While she heard running from above her and screaming below, she felt secure enough as she desperately tried to find a bathroom.

She eventually came to a three way hallway. The sight of corpses had become, while not normal per say, it definitely had lost it’s punch somewhat. However, seeing multiple headless bodies hanging from the ceiling down the center most hallway screamed at her to not go down it. She wasn’t that reckless. She decided to turn down the right hall, and merciful god there was a bathroom! She sprinted in and found the first stall open, with a dead man slumped over on the toilet. Something un-legible was written in blood behind him. She let out a frustrated huff and pushed open the second stall to find a hand sticking out, the third had only a mop and bucket.

“Oh, come on!” She shouted, before covering her mouth quickly and sprinting into the stall with the toilet hand. She could hear someone coming. Heavy steps and the rattling of chains. Looking up, she found another open vent. She climbed in and laid low.

She watched a large, deformed man walk in and break one of the stall doors down. He was shouting something about a pig and a whore. It was at this point that Amelia began scooting backwards in the vent. She’d find another bathroom, somewhere else. She followed the ventilation system until she found a dead end.

Pursing her lips, Amelia looked through the grated end of the vent. It was dark, but she could see a pleasant looking room on the other side. Through the grates below her, a few paces back, she spotted something that had her kicking the damn shuttered panel until it broke off. She jumped from the vents and as luck would have it, she’d found another bathroom. It was only lit in one corner, so she had to use her camcorder more than she would have liked in this instance, but after taking a moment to relieve herself and wash her hands, Amelia left the bathroom. Now more focused as she made her way down the dark hallway.

She found a key laying next to one of the many dead guards. She picked it up, assuming it would likely come in handy later. The hall was long and dark. There were metal gates up on either side where walls would normally be. The green tint on the camera gave Amelia a mild headache. It was one of those things where you stare at it for too long and your head hurts. She did however, thank her lucky stars that she wasn’t color blind. At the end of the hall there was a blocked off door with a table in front of it, but a hole in the glass above it.

Climbing onto the table and using it to get over the door, Amelia winced as some of the remaining glass cut into her hand. She dropped down on the other side, grunting when she landed, the fall a bit longer than she’d thought originally. Turning right to follow the hall, Amelia noticed that despite the pitch blackness of the asylum, she’d been overly using her camera. The batteries were running low. She’d need to find new ones soon or she’d be royally fucked.

Amelia came upon a partly lit room and turned her camera off. The room was full of patients but none of them attacked her, giving her the opportunity to look at them. Almost all of them were horrible deformed or mangled. She saw a man whose mouth and one of his eyes were sewn shut. One of the docile patients bumped past her on his way to a wall, where he then began slamming his head into it. Another patient was following her, but he was bound in a stray jacket and had his eyes and mouth covered. While not horribly defenseless, Amelia really didn’t want to fight if she didn’t have to. Following the room to the other side and out another blood spattered door, Amelia left the patients behind.

This was a place of death, decay and torture. Whatever the fuck the doctors had been doing here, it wasn’t right. Was her father… No. He wasn’t the most loving or attentive parent in the world, but he wasn’t capable of-... Of  _ this _ . When he was home and not waist deep in papers he was, well, he was her father. He took off his lab coat and talk to her. Ask her about school, her boyfriend, her majoring field or even her hobbies. He’d ask her about her paintings, poems and songs. He’d hug her and remind her that, even though he worked so much, he still loved her more than anything. It didn’t happen often, but it did happen.

Now was not the time for sentimentals. She needed to find her father and get them both out. Alive.  With her resolve hardened, Amelia rolled her shoulders and huffed.

She turned a corner and nearly ran right into a patient. She was about to scream in shock, but he grabbed her and covered her mouth.

“I’m not a bad guy, I promise.” He said, rocking her back and forth, like one might to comfort an upset child. Amelia pushed herself away from him and stepped back. He was mostly bald, like the other patients, but had it growing back. He had scars and burn marks on all the skin she could see. He was tall and wearing the generic patient garb with no shoes. His nose looked like it had been broken and recently stopped bleeding.

“Hey, I know you!” He said smiling, his voice was on the high side, especially given his oddly muscular build and the fact that he looked about thirty.

“You’re the pretty lady that smells nice! Well, at least you did before you hurt my nose!” He giggled. This was the mother fucker that chased her when she first came in. He was unsettlingly childlike in his demeanor.

“And you’re the asshole that chased me!” Amelia growled through her teeth.

“Yeah... I’m sorry, pretty lady. You smelled so nice, I wanted to give you a hug and smell you more!” Marshal said, giving her a toothy grin. His teeth were jagged and sharp.

“L- Look, guy, I’m-”

“Marshall. My name is Marshall Watts.”

“R- Right. Uh, Marshall. I’m looking for someone important and I need to find them before something bad happens. I don’t have time for this.” Amelia tried to walk past Marshall, only for him to firmly grab her arm. He was stronger than he looked.

“Who are you looking for? I wanna help, lady!” He said, still smiling.

“I- I’ll uh, be fine on my own, Marshall.” Amelia said. She pushed his hand away and he let her go, though he didn’t look to happy about it.

“There’s bad people here.” He said.

“Oh, I know. Trust me, I know.” She said, beginning to walk away. Marshall followed her as she walked.

“I could keep you safe while we find your friend.” He said.

“No, I’m okay.” She said, looking around for a vent or a path he wouldn’t be able to squeeze through. She wasn’t so lucky this time, but he wasn’t hostile at the moment.

“So what’s your name?” He asked.

“Uh, Amelia. Amelia Warren.” She said. She stopped and turned around when she noticed Marshall had stopped following her.

“You okay?” She asked, her confidence wavering slightly.

“Are you, perhaps related to Doctor Warren?” He asked, his face was already unreadable from the deformation of it, but now his tone was mirthless.

“Do you know where he is? Can you take me to him?” Amelia asked, in what was not her brightest of moments.

“Mmmm… Yeah, but he’s kind of a bastard. He’s not who you’re looking for, is he?”

“Can you take me to him or not?” Amelia demanded. Marshall gently put his hand on her shoulder. He said nothing before turning and walking away. Amelia rolled her eyes and opened a nearby door. It was dark, so she flipped her camera on and began searching the room. It was mostly empty, but it had another door. The next room had a few overturned bookcases and surprise, surprise, another dead body. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear before crouching and crawling under the bookcases, tossing the books out of her way.


	3. Chapter 3

Among the books she was haphazardly throwing, Amelia found another document. She idly wondered why documents were left in such strange places. Sure, perhaps when the patients got loose, the various documents got scattered, but why would the mad residents of the asylum want to carry stacks of paper around? Opening the folder, there were a printed out email on Marshall. Huh. How convenient.

“From:  _ D.taylor@murkoffcorp.us.com _

To:  _ B.brown@murkoffcorp.us.com _

Subject:  _ Patient Marshall Watts _

 

_ Bastian _ ,

_ It’s come to my recent attention that a great number of our programs to assist in easing the stress of the patients have been abolished. My patient, Mr. Marshall Watts, was one such affected individual. He was taking part in our aromatherapy program, which seemed to help reduce his more violent tendencies greatly and he was making terrific progress. He seemed to favor more floral scents. _

_ Since stopping he’s become more agitated and quicker to anger. He attacked one of the fouler smelling patients while in the cafeteria, causing permanent damage to the victim’s  trapezius and nearly killing the poor man. I must implore you to reinstate the aromatherapy sessions. Surely the cost of a few nice smelling oils is less than to projected medical costs the patients could cause us. _

_ Lavender helped him sleep at night and reduce his extreme night terrors. Rosemary helped him to relax and feel better about himself.  **Bergamot** was his most favorite, and the first to run out. He had the best and most effective results when exposed to bergamot. There seems to be a residual sort of association he has with the aroma. He favored the empty, but scentless bottles to the less effective smells. _

_ I will foot some of the cost personally if I must. Marshall is one of our most at risk patients, and I personally have fostered a deep and parental like relationship with him. When unaggressive, he behaves much like a child. You wouldn’t believe the difference in his persona when he’s surrounded by pleasant smells. It borders on dissociative identity disorder. _

_ Please consider the well being of out patients in your decision. _

 

_ My best regards, _

_Dr. Dennis Taylor_ ”

 

Well, shit. That explains something. Bergamot. It’s a sort of fruit loops kind of smell. It was also Amelia’s favorite perfume. She still wreaked of it from trying to cover up the nastier smells of enjoying a concert. Also, who prints out emails like this? Isn’t discussing a patient in detail like this illegal? “Doctor-Patient confidentiality” and all that? Granted, half the shit she’d seen would probably fall under “criminal neglect” or something. You know, aside from the actual murder that’s happened here.

The sound of the door being slammed against had Amelia’s head snap towards it. Looking around, there weren’t many places to hide. There was a desk, a low to the ground bed and a small locker. Without much time to think, she opened the locker, pulled her legs to her chest and closed it tight. Not a moment after the locker closed the door was broken down and a very naked man walked in. He surveyed the area, murmuring something she couldn’t quite make out. before dropping to his knees and looking under the bed and desk, Amelia getting a fantastic, but much unwanted, look at his ass through the grates on the locker.

“Here kitty, kitty, kitty.” The man called as he searched. Finding nothing, he stood back up and again, assessed the area. Was there an actual cat in here, or did he actually know she was there? The patient stalked back out of the room. Taking her chance, Amelia left her locker and, staying low to the ground, made her way to the door. She cautiously looked out, down both halls. To the left it was mostly dark, but the foot falls she heard from that direction lead her to believe that it was where the man had gone. To the right, was a dead end. There was a door, but it was barricaded with tables and chairs. Of course.

Amelia took out her camera and began crawling down the left hall. She vaulted over a table that was just randomly in the middle of the hall and took in the hall. There was a trail of blood on the floor, following, at least she assumed, the man who’d broken down the door. She stepped over a few corpses and moved into a room to her right when the man came back towards her. Again, she found herself hiding. This time on the other side of a small hole at the back of the room. It was almost empty, save for a single bed against the wall and a chair in the middle. Of course, that was aside from all the blood and organs strewn about.

She watched the naked man enter the room. He kicked over the chair and looked under the bed. “Where are you, you little whore? I’ve got big plans for you…” The man growled. He sounded like he’d been chain smoking for the last twenty years of his life. Amelia wrinkled her nose in disgust.  As a solid seven out of ten, she’d been cat called before. By men on the street, her old boss, and even a professor that had gotten fired for it. This ass hole, while more blunt, wasn’t much different. Tiny penis and all.

Amelia looked around her current hiding spot and found a small tunnel. She turned and began following it, before being suddenly yanked back by her ankle. She screamed and looked back to see the naked man reaching through the hole. She kicked his face repeatedly, tears threatening to spill from her eyes until he let go. She’d landed a firm kick to his throat and didn’t waste time making her escape down the cramped passageway. It went quite deep, not ending till there was a hole in another, unfamiliar hallway. The blood and smashed in wall made her not want to think of what fate the excavator had suffered.

Now standing again, and on the other side of a locked door, she used her camera to see where she was. Aside from the locked door to her right, Amelia had only two doors to go through. The first one she tried was also locked, so the second was her only choice. The room was well decorated, with couches, a television and a computer in the corner. Closing the door behind her, she sighed when she found no other doors or vents.

The only ways out were through the door she came in through, and a window that had been smashed open. As she was contemplating turning around, Amelia heard something smash against the door. She jumped and moved backwards, closer to the window.

“You-! Fucking-! Little-! Cunt-!” The naked man grunted each time he slammed himself against the door. Without any other choice, Amelia climbed out the window. When had it started to rain? The sill was slippery and with the camera’s strap in her mouth, she shimmied along the ledge, as to not be forced back in. She heard the door finally give and the man run to the window, looking for her.

“You little slut! When I catch you, I’m going to fuck you! Then I’m going to kill you! And fuck your corpse!” He spewed his vitriol from the window, but didn’t dare follow her. She jumped down on a landing, likely the roof of a lower level. She looked down to see how far the ground was. Still a long drop, but a survivable one. With no openings where she was, Amelia said a little prayer before jumping into the bushes below.


	4. Chapter 4

She landed softly. Too softly. Her entire back was wet and she could feel something slimy underneath her. She sobbed a little before standing up and looking at what she’d landed in. Or rather, as she feared,  _ who  _ she landed in. Now a mangled and mashed body, there were no distinct features she could make out. Given how most of the patients were male, she took to assuming that the unfortunate soul who'd broken her fall was once a man. Despite the weather, she shrugged off her jacket. It was cold and rainy, her tank provided only minimal coverage, but by god she couldn’t walk around knowing  _ that  _ was on her the whole time.

She cleaned her hands the best she could on her pants and walked around the building. She wanted to go home. She wanted to go home so bad. She wanted to be at the table with her father, eating breakfast in complete silence like they usually did when he was home. He wasn’t a morning person, and neither was she so it was always welcomed. Blinking back tears at the thought, Amelia forged ahead. Through her camera, she saw two men, one chasing the other.

The one doing the chasing was the large, deformed man she’d seen earlier. The one running away was… Not a patient? He looked so normal? From what she could tell, he had dark hair and pale clothes on. Maybe white, or a khaki color? Then again, what would another normal person be doing here? He probably killed a visitor and took his clothes. Another psycho in this god forsaken hell hole.

She felt bad for the poor bastard being chased by the giant walking thumb, but really, she couldn’t run quite as fast as him besides, he had a better chance at getting away that she did. Scurrying across the field, Amelia tried finding her way back into the building. It was dark and the openness of the courtyard made it difficult to really see her surroundings. Fucking christ, her phone light would be useful if it wouldn’t give her away.

It was dark. It was cold. It was raining, and she was fairly certain that the stress would push back her period by a few days at least and she’d have to readjust her calendar. She hated this place so much. She made her way, rather undisturbed, to a sort of exercise court. There was a man playing basketball by himself. Amelia chose not to bother him and shut the open gate behind her, feeling better as it locked into place. She tried opening the door, but found it locked. She tried the key she had, but it didn’t work.

Of course it wouldn’t she’d gotten it inside the building and a good distance away. This place was like a maze. She really had no idea where she was. Turning around, Amelia followed the path she’d made for herself and snuck past the man playing by himself. Continuing around the building, she found a small hole in the wall, and with the rain picking up, she decided it was a good time to climb inside.

She found herself in a prisoner type ward. There were cells with some more patients wandering about. They didn’t attack one and other, so she assumed they were friendly enough. Well, as friendly as anyone was in this place at least. It was fairly well lit, so she lowered her camera and took in the horrible condition the, well, there was no other way to say it, the  _ prison _  ward. There was a chunk of the upper walkway missing. There was no way the patients did that by themselves. That had to have happened before it all went to shit. Fuck Murkoff, honestly. Fuck them, fuck hospitals and fuck her life. Amelia wished her father had refused the job.

She’d been planning on becoming a nurse, with the hopes of working with her father and bettering their relationship. Become closer and all that. But now… Now she didn’t know what she was going to do. She sure as fuck wasn’t going into the medical field. At all. Ever. Fuck. That.

How long have these men been neglected and abused for? And, thinking about it, she hadn’t seen a single female patient or corpse. Why were there only men? This was a co-ed asylum, wasn’t it? As she walked past on of the cell doors, a hand smashed through the glass window. The man tried desperately to grab her, but to no avail.

“Show me your tits, baby!” The man slurred. More of this then, Amelia grimaced and kept walking. She noticed a man in the far corner of the room, facing away from everyone else. He was moaning and moving his arm in front of him. It was here that Amelia decided to leave and not look back. She’d seen enough and was ready to never look at another man. Ever.

It was as she was walking, that she noticed just how loud her steps had become. Her galoshes had always been squeaky, but now it echoed down the corridor. She really didn’t have much of a choice, and as much as it pained her, she kicked off her shoes. Her dark grey socks now the only protection her feet had. From the pools of blood, broken glass and god knows what else on the floors.

Now moving more quietly, Amelia walked down the hall. It was dark and her battery was nearly dead. How were all these lights still out when the power had been restored? She needed to charge this fucking thing soon or find a new battery. The fucking thing was blinking now. It only took a few steps for her to sully her socks. She’d stepped in a puddle of blood. She could feel it seep through the cotton fabric of her socks and squish between her toes.

Amelia gagged a little, covering her mouth to both keep her silence, and not vomit. Shaking her head to alleviate the building nausea, she pressed on. The hall being so poorly lit made it so she had to rely on her near dead camera. She shimmied through a small opening between two stacks of clutter. The end of the hall was a dead end, save for a ladder going up, through a hole in the ceiling. Seriously. What the fuck happened to make this place such a shit hole that it was in such disrepair.

Putting the camera strap between her teeth, Amelia began climbing the ladder. Once she reached the top, she took a look around. The room was empty from what she could see. She sat herself on the ledge and took the camera out of her mouth. Using the zoom function, she looked around what looked to be a gymnasium of some kind. She froze when she felt a droplet hit her nose. Hesitantly, she looked up. Corpses. Hundreds of corpses were hanging from the ceiling. Some without heads, all without genitals.

Eyes wide, Amelia quickly made for the nearest exit. She didn’t know what kind of psychopath would have done this, but she really didn’t want to find out. She nearly slipped when she stepped in a rather viscous puddle of congealed blood. Her startled cry seemed to alert whatever monster had strung all those men up, as she heard heavy footsteps coming towards her. Running out the door and vaulting over a door that was in the middle of the hall, Amelia made a sharp left turn and hid in the first open room she could get too. She slammed the door behind herself and slid under the bed. She held her breath, praying he wouldn’t find her.

She’d turned her camera off to save the battery. Laying on her stomach in the dark, under a blood soaked bed, while a deranged killer beat down the door. Saying this was a terrible way to spend a sunday night, or rather, a monday morning, was an understatement. She froze completely when she heard the door smash in.

“Where are you hiding, darling?” She heard a man with, admittedly, a very attractive accent, call out. He opened a locker that was in the corner of the room for seemingly no reason.

“Why are you hiding from me?! You’re all the same! Nothing but whores and sluts!” He shouted. He scanned the room again before skulking out.

Amelia hadn’t even see the bastard’s face, but she knew she just dodged one hell of a bullet. Once the coast was clear, the psycho’s attention drawn somewhere else, she ran in the opposite direction. She ran through a long hall and a few doors before finding herself in a fairly well lit area. She almost cried when she found a battery. She quickly changed it out and, now in a place where it wouldn’t get her caught right away, she checked the time on her phone.

**4:32 AM**

What. The. Fuck. She’d only been here for  _ two hours _ ?! She wanted to scream, but that would likely get her killed. She bit her lip in frustration and let out an irritated puff. She elected to survey her new surroundings. It was fairly empty and had pretty good lighting. It really made all the bloodied bodies stand out. God, she was going to need so much therapy after this. There were three hallways leading out of the room she was in. One lead left, she’d come from the right, and one down the middle. She assumed this had been some sort of tech room before it all went to shit. Granted, everything was destroyed, so it was mostly just a guess based on the fact she’d found a camera battery here.

The left and middle most halls were almost identical, so it was a crapshoot as to which would be a good way to go. “Good”, like anything here was good. She chose the middle hall, really for the hell of it. Most of the doors were locked, including the one at the end of the hall. The only open door was a dead end and only had a file laying haphazardly on the floor. It was a medical report on some murderous twins. Uninterested, Amelia dropped it and went back to the larger, barren room.


	5. Chapter 5

She landed softly. Too softly. Her entire back was wet and she could feel something slimy underneath her. She sobbed a little before standing up and looking at what she’d landed in. Or rather, as she feared,  _ who  _ she landed in. Now a mangled and mashed body, there were no distinct features she could make out. Despite the weather, she shrugged off her jacket. It was cold and rainy, her tank provided only minimal coverage, but by god she couldn’t walk around knowing  _ that  _ was on her the whole time.

She cleaned her hands the best she could on her pants and walked around the building. She wanted to go home. She wanted to go home so bad. She wanted to be at the table with her father, eating breakfast in complete silence like they usually did when he was home. He wasn’t a morning person, and neither was she so it was always welcomed. Blinking back tears at the thought, Amelia forged ahead. Through her camera, she saw two men, one chasing the other. 

The one doing the chasing was the large, deformed man she’d seen earlier. The one running away was… Not a patient? He was wearing normal clothes and, truth be told, yeah he was probably too old for her, but Amelia totally would have hit on him. She’d be rejected, but still… Fuck she needed a boyfriend if she was thinking like this in such a dire situation. He probably killed a visitor and took his clothes. Another psycho in this god forsaken hell hole.

She felt bad for the poor bastard being chased by the giant walking thumb, but really, she couldn’t run quite as fast as him besides, he had a better chance at getting away that she did. Scurrying across the field, Amelia tried finding her way back into the building. It was dark and the openness of the courtyard made it difficult to really see her surroundings. Fucking christ, her phone light would be useful if it wouldn’t give her away. 

It was dark. It was cold. It was raining, and she was fairly certain that the stress would push back her period by a few days at least and she’d have to readjust her calendar. She hated this place so much. She made her way, rather undisturbed, to a sort of exercise court. There was a man playing basketball by himself. Amelia chose not to bother him and shut the open gate behind her, feeling better as it locked into place. She tried opening the door, but found it locked. She tried the key she had, but it didn’t work.

Of course it wouldn’t she’d gotten it inside the building and a good distance away. This place was like a maze. She really had no idea where she was. Turning around, Amelia followed the path she’d made for herself and snuck past the man playing by himself. Continuing around the building, she found a small hole in the wall, and with the rain picking up, she decided it was a good time to climb inside.

She found herself in a prisoner type ward. There were cells with some more patients wandering about. They didn’t attack one and other, so she assumed they were friendly enough. Well, as friendly as anyone was in this place at least. It was fairly well lit, so she lowered her camera and took in the horrible condition the, well, there was no other way to say it, the  _ prison _ ward. There was a chunk of the upper walkway missing. There was no way the patients did that by themselves. That had to have happened before it all went to shit. Fuck Murkoff, honestly. Fuck them, fuck hospitals and fuck her life. Amelia wished her father had refused the job.

She’d been planning on becoming a nurse, with the hopes of working with her father and bettering their relationship. Become closer and all that. But now… Now she didn’t know what she was going to do. She sure as fuck wasn’t going into the medical field. At all. Ever. Fuck. That.

How long have these men been neglected and abused for? And, thinking about it, she hadn’t seen a single female patient or corpse. Why were there only men? This was a co-ed asylum, wasn’t it? As she walked past on of the cell doors, a hand smashed through the glass window. The man tried desperately to grab her, but to no avail.

“Show me your tits, baby!” The man slurred. More of this then, Amelia grimaced and kept walking. She noticed a man in the far corner of the room, facing away from everyone else. He was moaning and moving his arm in front of him. It was here that Amelia decided to leave and not look back. She’d seen enough and was ready to never look at another man. Ever.

It was as she was walking, that she noticed just how loud her steps had become. Her galoshes had always been squeaky, but now it echoed down the corridor. She really didn’t have much of a choice, and as much as it pained her, she kicked off her shoes. Her dark grey socks now the only protection her feet had. From the pools of blood, broken glass and god knows what else on the floors.

Now moving more quietly, Amelia walked down the hall. It was dark and her battery was nearly dead. How were all these lights still out when the power had been restored? She needed to charge this fucking thing soon or find a new battery. The fucking thing was blinking now. It only took a few steps for her to sully her socks. She’d stepped in a puddle of blood. She could feel it seep through the cotton fabric of her socks and squish between her toes.

Amelia gagged a little, covering her mouth to both keep her silence, and not vomit. Shaking her head to alleviate the building nausea, she pressed on. The hall being so poorly lit made it so she had to rely on her near dead camera. She shimmied through a small opening between two stacks of clutter. The end of the hall was a dead end, save for a ladder going up, through a hole in the ceiling. Seriously. What the fuck happened to make this place such a shit hole that it was in such disrepair.


	6. Chapter 6

With going down the middle a bust, Amelia made her way towards the left hall. She jumped a little when she saw a patient running at the end of the hall, meaning it split two ways at the end. She cautiously walked towards the end of the hall, checking the rooms on the way for anything useful. She’d found old food in a storage closet, a necrophile doing his business in a patient room and a very frightened patient, likely hiding, in another room. She wanted to offer him comfort, but feared she’d only make it worse. That, or he'd attack her. No one could be trusted here.

Why were all the patients here either homicidal, or sexual deviants? Okay, obviously not all of them. She’d seen a few docile patients, but  _ still _ . She didn’t think there could be so many necrophiles in one place. Did they have some kind of deal going on with the homicidal ones? Like, you kill them, we drill them? You shuck em’, we fuck em’? Hahaha, ew… She needed to get out of here. It felt like every moment she was in the institution she was slipping mentally. 

When she came to the end of the hall, it did indeed split into two. She cautiously looked down both to see where they might lead. The left was a no go, the patient who’d run down the hall had locked the door tight. So it was down the right hall for her. Using her camera’s zoom feature, Amelia slowly crawled down the hallway. There was derbies everywhere. Broken glass, scattered papers and blood. So, so much blood. She stood to jump over a pile of junk that was in the middle of the corridor.

It was as she was standing that she was grabbed by the naked man from before. Amelia screamed and tried running, but the man had both her arms and was much stronger than her. He lifted her off the ground, making he drop the camera, and pressed her against the wall. She spit in his face and kicked at his groin repeatedly. The man howled in pain, but only gripped her tighter, likely bruising her wrists. The man used one hand to keep Amelia pinned to the wall and used the other to pick up a knife. Where the fuck did that come from? The man cut Amelia’s cheek, pressing harder as it went along her face.

“I told ya’, didn’t I? You little fucking whore. I’m gonna make you scream.” The pervert said. Amelia felt herself begin to cry when the knife traveled down the side of her neck. It was when the man was about to try cutting her shirt off that someone had knocked the man away. Amelia fell limply to the floor, too in shock to register what was happening.

It took a few moments for her to come back to her senses. When she did, the first thing, was that she heard screaming. Two voices. One sounded familiar, and one, the man in pain, was the one who had attacked her. She looked at her would be assailant as he was gruesomely stabbed again and again. He struggled for only a little before death took him. His attacker continued stabbing him with what appeared to be a large shard of broken glass. Amelia scooted back and, as much as she tried to fight it, let out a frightened sob. The new attacker stopped and turned to face her.

He began to lumber towards her, the darkness slowly fading into light and revealing his face. It was Marshall. He looked down at his broken glass, then the dead man, then back at his blood soaked hands. He dropped the weapon and approached Amelia, making her press herself against the wall.

“Are you okay?” He asked, he seemed genuinely concerned about her, and he had just saved her from a fate worse than death. Amelia let out a choked sob and nodded. He seemed to contemplate something before picking her up. On instinct she immediately began struggling. He seemed unfazed by it and only held her tighter.

“You wanted to see Dr. Warren, right?” He asked. His tone was cooler than before, less friendly than it had just been. But the prospect of finding her father and getting the fuck out of here was too tempting and she wasn’t really in the best state of mind.

“Please.” She begged hoarsely. Marshall gave her a quiet nod and carried her through the facility, he knew exactly where he was going. She felt oddly safe as he carried her. He was surprisingly strong. Shockingly, despite his condition and the state of the facility, he didn't smell too terrible. It was probably all the trauma and some sort of damsel in distress syndrome that has her almost swooning for this disfigured psycho. A killer! Killer... He'd killed that man so easily, and with no remorse. 

True that guy had tried to rape her, and she was thankful for Marshall, but still. She needed to get her hormones in control and remember that no one in this blood soaked asylum was a real ally. The thought was punctuated by Marshall taking a deep breathe in through his nose, clearly trying to smell her hair. She wanted to cringe, but she was beginning to feel the consequences of all her running now that she had a sort of rest. He eventually stopped in front of one of the rooms and let her down. Amelia stumbled a bit, her knees still weak and her exhaustion taking over as the adrenaline receded. Marshall caught her and helped get her steady. He lightly squeezed her shoulder and gave her a smile.


End file.
